Perspective

In the past six days, the following events have occurred:

*I locked myself out of my house.

*The power went out in our rent house and despite the fact it is the ONLY house on the block with no power, and I have tons of painting to do, and have made numerous calls to the power company, it remains cold and lifeless. Sort of like the way my kids’ breakfast pancakes look each morning when it takes them twenty damn minutes to get out of bed despite my repeatedly yelling and threatening encouraging them lovingly to wake up and get moving already.

*The power went out in my personal residence. Also cold and lifeless, but at that point we bagged it and spent the night at my mother’s. Thank goodness we were only without power for about a day and a half.

*My washer went out.

*I started my period (you’re glad I shared that one with you, aren’t you?)

*My dog died.

Needless to say, I was starting to get just a wee bit discouraged about the way this past week was going. And perhaps I sought solace in a box of Russell Stover chocolates (yes, the entire box in one sitting, do you have a problem with that?) and then perhaps I was even more discouraged because even my fat pants no longer fit.

Then, I realized. Not that I had forgotten, by any means. I will never, ever, ever forget. But I remembered specifically what we were doing exactly two years ago this weekend --- celebrating the final days of my daughter’s twenty-six month battle with leukemia. Celebrating the final days of chemo, spinal taps, bone marrow biopsies, shots and pills and port accesses and surgeries and bald heads and nausea and steroids and toxic drugs and mood swings and fatigue.

Two years since she won.

She has not relapsed. Friends have.

She is still with us. Some friends are not.



In light of the incredible blessing the past two years have been, I think I can get over a few temporary modern inconveniences.

And in the even bigger, bigger picture --- if the sweet baby Jesus can be born in a barn and not complain about it, I should be able to hang out in my garage for two hours, on a futon, wrapped in blankets, waiting for the locksmith, without being such a whiner.

See what I mean? It’s all perspective. :)